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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592763">bubby doesn't like the tube</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAT_BAT/pseuds/RAT_BAT'>RAT_BAT</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Backstory, Blood and Injury, M/M, Science Experiments, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:15:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAT_BAT/pseuds/RAT_BAT</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>just a fluffy no way angsty fic about bubby and coomer. definitely no angst here.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>bubby doesn't like the tube</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ok so I fell in love with HLVRAI and I can already tell that there isn't enough bubby/coomer fics (boober? bummer? boomer? what's there ship name?) fics. here's mine hehe</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They put me back in my tube, Gordon!” Bubby cried, slamming his fists on the glass, suspended in a dark green liquid. “Get me out, <em> please</em>,” <br/><br/>“You fucking betrayed me!” Gordon shouted as Dr. Coomer scrambled around, trying to find a button or something to get him out. “Why should I help you? They cut off my arm!” <br/><br/>“I didn’t...tell them to do that. I don’t know why they did that. And I’m sorry about that. But -” <br/><br/>“You’re <em> sorry </em> ? My <em> arm </em> is <em> gone</em>. You can’t make up for that. Get fucked, Bubby,” <br/><br/>Gordon turned to leave as Tommy shot at the glass, Dr. Coomer muttering to himself as he pressed a button continuously. <br/><br/>“Don’t leave me here,” Bubby whined, hands on the glass. “It gets terribly lonely,” <br/><br/>“Gordon, I don’t think it’d be a good idea to leave him here,” Dr. Coomer said, pressing a few buttons on the computer, a whirring sound starting up as more computers turned on. “It’s ah...the liquid he’s suspended only has a short span of air left in it,” </p><p>He turned to Bubby, who looked just as surprised as him, but his face morphed into realization and he nodded desperately, pointing to a red button on the control panel. <br/><br/>“That lets me out. Please, just press it, I’ll do anything, I <em> hate </em> being in here,” <br/><br/>“No. Coomer, press that button and I’ll shoot you,” Gordon said, pulling out the gun with his left hand. “Don’t make me do this,"</p><p>Coomer hesitated, glancing back at Bubby, who looked shocked (and absolutely livid), taking his hand away from the button. He backed away, stopping next to Bubby’s tube, calm. It made Gordon irate that he wasn’t even <em> upset </em> at the fact that Coomer wasn’t reacting. </p><p>“OK. But I’m not leaving him here. If you leave, we stay here,” </p><p>“You’ll just press the button and let him out!” Gordon bellowed, the gun pointed directly at Coomer’s head. “I can’t have that!”<br/><br/>“You hurt him and I’ll tear you to fucking <em> pieces</em>, Freeman!” Bubby screamed from inside the tube, voice echoing across the walls, pounding his fists on the glass so hard that his hands were turning red. "<em>They didn’t make me with sharp teeth without a reason</em>!” </p><p>“That is true,” Coomer said, nodding, seemingly ignoring Bubby’s threats. “But we wouldn’t follow you. We’d find our own way out,”<br/><br/>“Mr. Freeman, this button has numbers on it!” Tommy said loudly, and before Bubby could get his protest out he slammed his fist onto the button and the entire world went white, knocking Gordon onto his ass as his memories swarmed and he forgot why he was angry in the first place. <br/><br/></p><p>
  <em> “Dr. Coomer,”  </em>
</p><p><em> Dr. Coomer looked years, decades younger than he was, his hair a curly dark brown and mustache fluffier, looking content with himself. The scientist looked up from his book, smiling at the other gentlemen. “Hello! Do you need something, Doctor? </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Yes, you’re needed in the Biological Research Department. The subject is complete,” </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Oh!” Dr. Coomer said, standing up and rushing away, leaving his book on the bench.  </em></p><p>
  <em> The world shifted, morphed, and then it was a dark room with light green hues, a group of chattering scientists in the far corner of the room. The angle shifted as Dr. Coomer rushed in, skidding on the wet floor and almost crash landing into the nearby computer, before righting himself and looking up at the glass tube. </em>
</p><p><em> A young man was floating in the green liquid, hands on the glass as he surveyed the new scientist. His hair was a light brown, swirling in the liquid, with a black tracksuit covering his body, many wires coming out of his body. He stared in awe, placing his hands on the glass, the man mirroring his actions. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “He’s ready?” Dr. Coomer said, eyes still trained on the man. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Yes. Lung capacity is at 100%, but it may take a moment for him to get used to fresh air, since he’s been breathing pure oxygen for most of his gestation,” said another scientist, Dr. Turner. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “And his name?” </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Ah..Well, the person who named him was quite drunk when they named him, and they ended up naming him ‘Bubby’,”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Coomer snorts as the man rolls his eyes, pointing behind him. He turned to see a red button on the control panel across from him. He walked over, looking at Dr. Turner, who nodded. He pressed the button with his palm. A bright red flashing starts in the room, but Coomer is unphased.  </em>
</p><p><em> The liquid in the tube drains from the bottom vents, making Bubby panic slightly as his feet touch the bottom of the tube for the first time. Shoulder high, waist high, knee high, ankle high, and finally Bubby was left standing in the middle of the tube, shivering and shaking from the cold, bits of the green goop falling from his hair and sticking to his tracksuit. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Let’s get him a towel,” Coomer said as the glass lifted. “Hi, Bubby. I’m Harold. Can you say your name?” </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> Bubby blinks at him dumbly. His hands fumble for the oxygen mask strapped to his face, unlocking it with a </em> hiss! <em> and letting it drop around his neck, looking around the tube and feeling the walls. He looks back, smiling at Coomer. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Bubby,” </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Wonderful!” Harold says, handing him a towel as two scientists unhook the many wires attached to Bubby’s skin. He wipes himself down when they’re done, towel turning a light shade of green as he towels off his hair. When he’s done, he extends it to Harold, who laughs and grabs it from him. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Can you take a few steps forward?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Bubby nods, wobbling on unsteady and thin legs, stepping off of the tube platform and almost falling flat on his face, landing in Coomer’s arms. He held him up, letting him walk a few steps with him before letting go.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A few normal steps and everyone was clapping, making Bubby smile, showing off a mouth full of razor sharp teeth.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The scene changes again. They’re in a testing room, full of equipment and medical jargon.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Now, Bubby, you </em> know <em> that biting people is wrong,” says the scientist, latching a muzzle over Bubby’s mouth. “We’ve taught you that,” </em> <br/><em> <br/>“Shut the fuck up!” Bubby shouts, going to lunge, but is stopped when a guard grabs him by the shoulders, holding him in place. The scientist grabs a needle, holding it up into the light and flicking it. He struggles, kicking his feet out as the man grabs his arm. </em></p><p>
  <em> Bubby snarls, kicking the doctor and headbutting the guard behind him, running out of the room and down the desolate hallway, further into the facility, and into the dormitory area. There are tears running down his cheeks. He turned the corner, throwing open the door to a bedroom and shutting it with force, locking it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The angle shifts and Dr. Coomer could be seen staring at Bubby with worry as he slides down the wall, crying softly. He walked up to him, resting a hand on his back as he curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, Bubby. They’ve been running experiments on you again, haven’t they?” Coomer asked, and Bubby nodded solemnly, shaking in a ball. Coomer scooped him up, carrying him to bed, setting him down and undoing the muzzle. Coomer laid the blankets over him, shedding his lab coat and shoes to lay down with him, letting him cry himself dry.  </em>
</p>
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